Tweedy Spice
30 April 2015 @ 10:24 pm
My in-laws are on a river cruise in France and we're babysitting their dog, the six-pound min-pin Vixen. Vixen is adorable, extremely cuddly, smart, lots of fun. She's also completely neurotic and likes to eat things she shouldn't eat. She's been known to eat half a stick of butter, and one Christmas we found her sitting with her front paws inside a loaf cake pan, happily munching on the pound cake therein. She ate half a box of seed-y gluten free crackers once, too, and was round as hell and pooping seeds for a couple days afterwards. Several times MIL had to induce vomiting because Vixen ate something she really shouldn't have.

I have nightmares that the dog gets ahold of something toxic and... those dreams don't end well.

Tonight while I was in the bathroom she drank 2-3 ounces of milk I mistakenly left in a bowl on a low table. ARGH!! I'm so mad at myself!

Poindexter is at a concert, so I texted his sister for help. She called her vet and apparently I don't need to induce vomiting, but I can probably expect some diarrhea. In the middle of the night, probably, but for now I've got the dog sleeping next to me on one of those incontinence bed pads we use for our not-fully-potty-trained young guests.

So, everything should be fine, and she's sleeping like normal, but I'm a nervous wreck. First I expect her to wake up and barf, then she doesn't move for a while and I freak out that she's not breathing. I'm clearly not cut out for having a dog. Or a kid, for that matter. It's a good thing I didn't have kids.
 
 
Tweedy Spice
30 April 2015 @ 02:20 pm
I had a sudden recollection last night of a time when I was maybe five years old. One of the neighborhood boys and a friend of his busied themselves cornering all the neighborhood girls at various times and demanding that they pull their pants down and display their girl parts or they would get beaten up.

The instigator's name was David, and my recollection of him from that time is that he was much older and much larger than me. Many years later he was a senior when I was a freshman. For years I remembered his full name like you remember a criminal's full name, but I can't remember it now.

My friend Jenny lived right next to the park, and one day while I was playing with her they cornered us behind the square brick restroom there. We may still have been visible from some angles; I'm not sure. I'm pretty sure I would have caved, as another friend of mine did when cornered alone by them, but Jenny was really brave, and continually told him no, so I did too. They even offered us candy at one point if we'd do it, and she continued to say no. They finally gave up and let us go, and Jenny, perhaps not quite clear on the concept, said, "Where's the candy?"

I remember cowering in the screen doorway of her house afterwards, while the sidekick rode by on his bike yelling, "We're gonna beat you up!" I was really scared. No beatings ever materialized, though, and we were never cornered again.

As a kid, this was just one of those encounters with "mean kids" that I just felt lucky to escape unscathed. As an adult, I am horrified by all of it. Why didn't we tell our parents? Or did we? Is that why it finally stopped? How did it happen that two 8-year-old boys can corner two 5-year-old girls behind a rest room and nobody notices? Did it look more innocent than it was?

And mostly, I wonder about David. In my memory he is huge and scary and mean. Then I think now of what 8-year-old boys look like and it's hard to imagine. Was he just curious and going about it very badly? Or was he really malicious? Why did he target so many girls? Had he been subjected to this, or something worse, himself? At least his threats of violence were empty ones. I should look him up in my yearbook and see what became of him. I sincerely hope he was just a stupid kid at the time.
 
 
Tweedy Spice
It's that wonderful time of the year, when Poindexter's sister Lynn visits, and we stayed up too late this weekend hanging with my brother, who just turned 40. She gave him a book called "Poo Knew" and we read excerpts from it and laughed until we cried, especially the part about old-school astronauts and how they dealt with poo in space.

But my favorite moment of the evening was when Chandler was complaining about how a man can become a complete idiot when he really likes a woman, and he said,

"A friend of mine, a wise man, said to me, 'Life would be a lot easier if there were no vaginas.'"

And Lynn said with disgust, "You wouldn't HAVE life without vaginas, stupid!" And then she punched him on the arm.
 
 
Tweedy Spice
14 April 2015 @ 09:16 pm
Last night when I was ready for bed and went upstairs, Poindexter was lounging in bed reading intently on his phone, half-sitting, half-lying on his side propped with pillows, with no sleep shirt on. He "needs" a haircut so this combination of head hair and chest hair and all that bare skin was really hot.

When he is tired he has his sleep shirt on and is already laying down with his eyes closed, so I took this to mean -- based on past experience -- that he was waiting for something. I braced my arms on the bed and leaned in his direction and looked at him expectantly.

Poindexter: [confused] What?
evelynne: Is this a[n adult activity] night?
Poindexter: Oh. No. I gotta go to sleep.
evelynne: Well, you were layin' there all sexy with no shirt on!
Poindexter: [absent-mindedly, still thinking] I was doing math.
evelynne: Is that supposed to make it less attractive?

I think he's hottest when he's working, doing engineering and math stuff, so that didn't help. I like that faraway look he gets in his pretty blue eyes when he's thinking. He showed me the math -- some math-y riddle that had gone viral -- but I was too tired to make any sense of it. If you are so nerdy that you want to know what the math was too, it's this. I'm still too tired and haven't figured it out yet. I'll try again tomorrow.
 
 
Tweedy Spice
This past Saturday was our first sleep-in weekend day at home for several weeks. It felt luxurious. Poindexter got up to open the shades and let the sun in, then grabbed his phone and got back into bed, where I was still struggling to keep my eyes open. He started watching the Snapchat story for Coachella.

I have NO idea why he would bother to watch something like this. He basically hates 95% of the music at Coachella and it seems to be a thing for annoying twenty-somethings. I was actually surprised to see that there were a fair number of Latinos there. I thought it was a Thing White People Like. It was also just a bunch of drunk people and crowd scenes.

So I lay my head on his shoulder and then said, "This is boring. Why are we watching this? We could be doing other things. Like watching Ylvis or going back to sleep."

So I rolled away from him onto my left side, intending the latter, and he rolled half on top of me, leg over mine for good measure, and STUCK HIS PHONE IN MY FACE. The snap story was like 180 seconds long and he leaned on me, shaking it in my face and laughing because he was so pleased with himself, because he knew that I wouldn't be able to not watch.

Just now I asked him, "Why couldn't I keep my eyes closed and ignore it?" He said, "Because you thought something could happen." Then I asked, "Why did YOU watch it?" and he said "Because you wanted to!"

ARGH!
 
 
Tweedy Spice
09 April 2015 @ 10:11 pm
I had an utterly fabulous weekend up in the country with Camille. I requested that we do "country stuff" so we went to see LAMBS! And CHICKS! And we walked around in the woods!

Chicks and a lambCollapse )

Before we got to the sheep's meadow, I almost jokingly said to Camille, "I'll try not to squeal too loud." I thought it was silly and didn't say it. But as soon as I caught sight of the lamb (which gave a cute little bouncy hop at that moment) I did let out a shriek. It was SO CUTE!

The weekend blew by for me, but apparently not for other people. When I walked in the door, Poindexter ran down to the foyer and grabbed me and didn't let go for quite some time. The next morning he mentioned a conversation he'd had with his mom after they'd been talking about temp agencies on an unrelated matter:

MIL: I've been in bad mood the last couple of days. Well, not a bad mood exactly... it feels like something is missing.
Poindexter: I had the same feeling. And the thing that was missing WAS MY WIFE!!!
MIL: There's no temp for that!

When he told me this, I said, "What are you going to do when I go away to Europe for two weeks without you?" And he said, "Let us not speak of this."

Poor Poindexter. It's nice to be missed, though.

In other news, I got my hair trimmed and styled today and the washing person put it in a topknot which normally I hate but I liked it in this instance:

Hair picsCollapse )
 
 
Tweedy Spice
22 March 2015 @ 10:48 pm
One morning last week I was feeling a bit rough -- still getting over a cold plus it was, you know, morning -- and I was standing in the kitchen in my white wife beater sleep shirt and underwear. Probably just staring into space trying to adjust to the day. Poindexter came along and started squeezing my squishy parts. He's particularly fond of that little fleshy area above my hips in the back, the area that turns into a muffin top if one's pants are too tight.

Anyway, there's nothing unusual or noteworthy about this except that he kept doing it and it seemed unusually pointy and sharp somehow and I whined plaintively, "What are you doing? Whyyyyy?"

And he said gleefully, "You're not wearing green!"

That fucker. I JUST WOKE UP! I had just told him the day before that I had my outfit all planned out for St. Patty's Day "so I won't get pinched." He said indignantly, "Who's gonna pinch you?" and I said, "Well, nobody's ever pinched me but one time somebody made pinching motions at me because he didn't look closely enough at my deep forest green pants. I yelled at him."

Little did I know what I had most to fear, pinching-wise, was lurking in my own home. He got me again later when I put the sleep shirt on and was brushing my teeth before bed. Next year I need to make sure I'm wearing green panties too. He'll probably pinch me anyway.
 
 
Tweedy Spice
02 March 2015 @ 10:12 pm
This is the explanation that makes the most sense to me, for why people see the dress differently. But even knowing this, I still can't see any black. ARGH!

the-dress-shadows
 
 
Tweedy Spice
26 February 2015 @ 11:00 pm
whiteAndGold

Poll #2001305 That damn dress

What color is this dress?

White and gold
17(60.7%)
Blue and black
4(14.3%)
I can see it both ways
5(17.9%)
Other (explain in comments)
2(7.1%)


Oops, forgot the explanatory links. Here and here, for starters, if you somehow missed it on FB.

Poindexter and I both saw it originally as white and gold. Half an hour later, he glanced over at my computer and said, "It's blue and black now." He thought he was looking at a different picture. I said, "It still looks white and gold to me" and he started yelling "STOP FUCKIN' WITH ME!!" and I was all, "I'M NOT FUCKIN' WITH YOU IT'S THE SAME FUCKIN' PICTURE IT'S WHITE AND GOLD!" And he's all, "YOU'RE FUCKIN' WITH ME!"

I'm really not. He's telling me I should stop looking at it and try again later.

*****

In other news, Bård tweeted a couple days ago that there will be no Norway Tour this year. Which means if I want to be sure to see Ylvis live in concert, I have to go to Stockholm in three weeks. UGH. I didn't learn all that Norwegian and stuff about Norway so I could go to Stockholm instead, plus this is NOT the time of year I wanted to go, but Ylvis never does the same thing for long and I can't guarantee I'll ever get to see them live in this kind of concert again. I'm trying to figure out how much I'd regret it if I didn't go, versus how well I'd handle going to Stockholm alone with three weeks' notice. It seems to be easy to get gluten free food there, at least. Camille...? Any thoughts?

******

EDIT: He's still yelling. "YOU'RE FUCKIN' WITH ME! YOU PHOTOSHOPPED IT! IT'S A TOTALLY DIFFERENT PICTURE!"
 
 
Tweedy Spice
16 February 2015 @ 04:48 pm
I just suddenly remembered that the reason I loofah before I shave my legs (to prevent bumps and irritation) is because Poindexter heard the suggestion from a porn star on the Howard Stern show back in the day and related it to me. "Loofah 'til it hurts," she reportedly said.

It's such an ingrained habit to do this now that I just thought it was interesting to remember the why behind it. This isn't an actual example of it, but it reminds me of the "ends cut off the roast" story.

It seems to me that asking "why?" is one of the most important things you can ask yourself, especially when it comes to making life decisions. I'm astounded sometimes at people who follow some kind of script about what life is supposed to be ("fall in love, get married, have kids" being one of them) without really thinking about whether it applies to them. Poindexter and I asked it about having kids and you know how that turned out. Before I met Poindexter I couldn't see the point in me getting married (and still don't -- if anything happened to him you'll find me living alone in a Victorian).

Asking "why?" can also help me figure out where I'm wasting time in my life. I wish I could think of a more specific example, and they've all been minor ones anyway, but there have been times when I'd suddenly stop and say "Why am I doing this?" and find that the answer was "it's how I was taught" or "habit" or "for a reason that no longer applies."

And then sometimes asking why is just an affirmation. Because it makes me happy. Because I feel that it's the right thing to do. Because I won't like myself if I don't do it. Because it's better than the alternatives.
 
 
Tweedy Spice
10 February 2015 @ 10:27 pm
So... do you think it's possible to, like, wear out your brain by thinking too much? Or by trying to cram too much information in there? I am, as I've often said, an information junkie, and I'm always trying to stuff more language knowledge in there, and I spend every spare minute reading something or looking stuff up. Today it was airplanes, of all things, because somebody mentioned the largest plane in the world.

I just wonder, at some point is there gonna just be too much stuff in there, so I can't get at it when I need it? Should I be spending more time meditating and giving my brain a rest? Or will I have so many connections in my brain that more of them will be there as backup when some of them start to go? Plus there's the "use it or lose it" principle too... they say when you get older you should do things to challenge your brain to keep it sharp. And my grandparents that I most resemble in the brain department were sharp right up until the end (87 and 92).
 
 
Tweedy Spice
08 February 2015 @ 01:47 pm
[Wrote this last night.]

So I am on the plane with Poindexter and not long into the flight I started to get sleepy. I wanted to take my contacts out and take a nap[1], but I didn't have any Purell and I couldn't bring myself to touch my eyes without having used it on my fingers first. Airplanes are great places to pick up colds. So I had to try to stay awake.

I told Poindexter about my problem and he said, "I'll poke you." He has made it his personal mission to keep me awake. He is poking me in the side, nudging me with his elbow, biting me on the arm, stuff like that. Just now I was resting my head on his shoulder and he poked at my lips with his tongue in a slobby way, prying my lips apart and hitting my teeth. I pulled back with a grossed out noise and wiped my mouth off. He looked really pleased with himself for that one. Made me laugh, which helps with the staying awake.

[1] I don't nap with my contacts in. I did when I was younger and less cautious, but then I realized that napping in my contacts ended up making me MORE sleepy, so I have extra motivation not to do so.
 
 
Tweedy Spice
31 January 2015 @ 11:01 pm
I was thinking today about how my family makes a big deal of people going on trips, or having surgery, or anything out of the ordinary. When anyone in the family is flying somewhere, even if it's not to visit us, they send a group text announcing that they're on the plane and when they land. The night before my dad had his prostate removed ten years ago, he spent the entire night fielding phone calls from people wishing him well. On the one hand, it was incredibly lovely, and he LOVED it. I'm not knocking the practice. But I am horribly morbid and I feel like people are doing this "in case they die" or "in case the plane crashes." I don't think that's actually the case, I don't that's why the family does it, especially with the vacation thing, and you can lend support to someone having surgery without being worried they'll die. But I worry about dying, so I feel like it's about dying. And then I get superstitious and I don't want to talk about it for fear they WILL die. Yeah, that makes no sense.

Nowadays there's really no need for it, as far as communication goes. I'm just as easy to reach when I'm in South Carolina or California as I am when I'm home. I've left my phone on another floor in the house for longer than some of the flights we've taken. It's not like back in the day, when I had to leave hotel phone numbers with people.
 
 
Tweedy Spice
30 January 2015 @ 10:49 pm
I have a few selfies to share with you. Unfortunately I'm all bundled up in them. This one was the worst, on one of those 19-degrees-and-windy days awhile back when my walk was miserable:

Snapchat--6640268661829857214

.
.
It warmed up enough to take my scarf offCollapse )
.
.
.
 
 
Tweedy Spice
30 January 2015 @ 09:21 pm
I completely forgot to post yesterday.

I was going to mention that I referred to Poindexter as "square" to someone yesterday. Then I had to look it up on Urban Dictionary to see if I understood the word right.

My understanding of the word was that it meant someone who was old-fashioned and a stickler for the rules or doing the right thing, but the UD definitions seem to lean toward people being boring, nerdy, unwilling to try something new or have any fun.

Well... according to some people that could be true of Poindexter, but I think he's fun.

Anyway, I meant it, at the time, in the sense of following the rules, his sense of morality. When I first met him, he had the long hair, drank beer despite being only 18, smoked, went to parties in the woods, and had an irreverence for authority that I certainly did not have (still don't). I asked him once back then, "Are you a bad boy?" He managed to avoid answering, thanks to the laughter that question elicited from other people in the room, but he kind of was.

Not anymore. He cut his hair, wears Dockers to work, quit smoking, drinks moderately only if it's not a school night, doesn't go out much, and ... well, he does get pretty wild at concerts but otherwise he's pretty square. Or a fuddy-duddy.

I don't even remember where I was going with this except that

1. I like the word "square" in this sense, which I always hear in Lorraine's voice from "Back to the Future",

2. When Poindexter wears his heavy metal shirts I think it's hot because it makes him look like a bad boy again. Last weekend he put a temporary tattoo on his arm (we had bought some for a young cousin) and that was hot, too. He was flexing his arm and showing off his tattoo. I think I need to buy more of those.
 
 
Tweedy Spice
28 January 2015 @ 11:33 pm
I totally forgot about posting!! I was working on a little Ylvis project with an Ylvis Fan Friend (yes, I have one) and worked out too and now it is bedtime!
 
 
Tweedy Spice
27 January 2015 @ 11:14 pm
A week or so ago, I was walking down the street and saw a scene that I REALLY wish I could have gotten a picture of.

There were two little girls, both wearing brightly colored winter jackets and hats with big puffy bright pom poms on the top. Different colors, but the same style, and the girls were about the same size. The two girls were hugging each other, full body hugs, with huge grins on their faces, clasped tight like they hadn't seen each other in months. When they pulled back out of the hug, they clasped hands as though they were about to start dancing, and they were both still vibrating with excitement, grinning ear to ear, and bouncing a little at the knees.

It was just unbearably cute, their sheer joy that couldn't be contained, their delight in each other. Really made my day.
 
 
Tweedy Spice
26 January 2015 @ 11:31 pm
WHERE'S MY FUCKIN' SNOW!?

Chandler is IMing me his own disappointment. Although I can't be TOO disappointed since we are getting SOME and if it's as little as currently predicted, we can just brush it off the truck in the morming, no shoveling required.
 
 
Tweedy Spice
25 January 2015 @ 01:47 pm
Somebody linked to an article that mentioned David Sedaris being a litter-picker in his village in England, which led to me trying to find out more about David and his litter-picking, and then I ended up on this thread on Metafilter asking what's going through the heads of people who litter.

I've mentioned before that littering is one of the few things that makes me see red. It's only a sense self-preservation that keeps me from screaming at people on the street when they drop their candy bar wrapper on the ground in front of me. Poindexter used to sometimes pour out his soda into the gutter, reasoning that it will dry up and rain will eventually wash the residue away, and he DOES get screamed at if he even attempts it. (Though I think, at this point, he just likes to threaten to do it to get me riled up.) There's just no reason not to leave the drink in the cupholder until we get home and I can dispose of it properly.

David Sedaris thought it was related to socioeconomic class, since most of the litter he picks up is from establishments or products that cater to that price bracket. Other people in the thread, however, pointed out that upper-class areas are more likely to have hired people to clean up litter on the streets. In the city, though, that doesn't answer the question of who's actually doing the littering. Any given neighborhood in Philadelphia is full of people passing through from elsewhere.

The theory I found most enlightening in the thread, however, were reflected in these depressing comments:

"Here's the mental process I'd guess people are using:
1. Thought: I have something in my hand I don't want.
2. Action: Throw it on the ground.
3. Thought (optional): Not my problem anymore."

"Anyways, you'll notice that not everybody thinks a step ahead. They think only about immediate results. When dropping litter, the immediate result is now their problem is gone. It doesn't even occur to them that there are other effects to their actions. People just don't think their actions through, in every part of their lives, not just when it comes to littering."

"I'm having a hard time figuring out what the inner dialog concerning littering might be
Most people have no inner dialogue. This may explain a great number of things for you."


This is something I've noticed quite a lot in the last few years, with some surprise. It seems like there are a lot of people -- intelligent people -- who don't really think more than one or two steps ahead of wherever they are. Or, they imagine a particular best-case scenario, without ever considering what might happen if things don't go exactly as planned. Although, I don't know, maybe they did consider a less-than-best-case scenario and judged the risk to be sufficiently low? One example would be buying a new house before I've sold the old one. I've seen this bite people on the ass, really hard, more than once, so I wouldn't dare do it, personally. I wouldn't have done it even before I saw it happen to them, because all I can see is the ways this could possibly go wrong. But maybe I'm more risk averse than others, or other people consider the risk to be low in their particular case.

On the other hand, apparently there are ways to encourage people to think, at least where littering is concerned. It's a matter of figuring out who they are and what influences them, like the "Don't Mess With Texas" campaign. According to the commenter,

"My memory (from about 10 years ago when someone presented it to a group I was in) is that they did market research and found that there are cohorts of people who never littered, people who rarely littered and those who littered a lot. Many of the people in that latter group were young men, a lot who were particularly prone to litter by throwing stuff out of their trucks.

They used a norm-based persuasion model, which, rather than addressing individual behaviors, tried to change group norms. For example, they found that young men admired and wanted to emulate Dallas Cowboy team members, so some of the early ads had highly recognizable football players handing trash back to young men and saying the tag line of the campaign."


PDFs of the actual studies are here. I kind of want to read it, and kind of think it might just make me madder hearing about the research on litterbugs. :)
 
 
Tweedy Spice
25 January 2015 @ 12:06 am
I'm one of those people who always falls for clickbait, and on certain web sites (slate.com, dailymail.co.uk especially), I will just keep following links to suggested articles until I've wasted an entire weekend day if I don't watch it. It's getting easier to resist the clickbait because I get impatient with how slow the slides are to load, but I'm still a sucker for those articles.

Tonight, I was reading an article about the benefits of Amazon Prime. They now have HBO shows on there, including "Flight of the Conchords," which I'd like to try because people keep mentioning it in reference to Ylvis, and "The Sopranos," which Poindexter was re-watching while we had HBO for "Game of Thrones." I said, "You can watch 'The Sopranos' over and OVER and OVER and OVER again," like he does with the Godfather movies and "The Usual Suspects."

ANYWAY, there was a link on the side to a Jezebel article titled

TMI/NSFW alert related to sexCollapse )